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“The lumber business is temporarily, and soon to be, permanently, in my care.” Sam drops the papers with a shake of his head. “Respectfully, Rowan, there’s no reason for you to meddle.”
He’s right. There isn’t a reason for me to be invested—not in this manor or even the estate as a whole—but as more time passes, I find myself connected to all of it. As if I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this my whole life.
“It was brought to my attention that there’s been a shortage.”
“By who?” he asks.
Eleanor and her friends the night of the auction, and while it wouldn’t affect me in any way to out them, for some reason, I don’t.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve been crunching the numbers for days, trying to find the source for our losses. Check the back logs for yourself if you don’t believe me. You’ll find countless delays in logging transportation in and out of state. It’s damaging the bottom line, which means a direct pay cut for contractors and the men and women of Magnolia Creek who work for us—” I pause before correcting myself, “For you, I mean.”
Sam stares at me blankly. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Rowan. I’m glad to have met you, truly, I am. But you’re in over your head here.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’ve got a business to run in Seattle.” He walks to the table where I’ve left the magazine featuring Lucas on the cover and lifts it to show me. “I’ve seen the ruckus surrounding your brother online, and no doubt, the others are feeling your absence as well.”
A pit opens in my stomach, unleashing a wave of nauseous guilt for abandoning them as long as I have. If I thought our divide was bad before, it’s only gotten worse since I left.
“I understand things have been hectic with the engagement, but I think you’re losing sight of the end goal here.” He claps a hand over my shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “Marry Molly, fulfill your commitments, and go home.”
It’s insane, I know it is, taking on all of this when I’ve got my family and responsibilities waiting for me. I can’t stay gone forever, but in the midst of trying to free myself of this place, I’ve made a promise to take care of Molly, and at the very least, I’m going to see that through.
I nod, keeping Patricia’s bombshell about the manor’s contingency on my brothers’ obligations to myself. No reason to rock the boat when I know I’ll be able to convince them and still keep my word to Sam.
“Sir.” Reginald taps at the door. “A word, please.”
“Will you excuse me?” I say before stepping out into the hall.
My heart hammers as I follow him to Molly’s room, where two panicked maids stand by her empty bed.
“What’s going on?” I demand.
“Molly’s gone,” Reginald says with a trace of worry. “Normally, I wouldn’t think anything of it, but she didn’t let anyone know where she was headed. It’s not like her.”
“She never ate dinner, sir,” Jillian says meekly. “I wanted to bring her a small plate before we all left for the evening, but then I found the room empty.”
“You’re sure she’s nowhere else on the property?” I ask.
They nod their heads rapidly, and Britney gestures in the direction of the north side of the manor. “Her car’s gone.”
I grit my teeth. “Fuck.”
It’s eight o’clock at night, and while Molly knows she’s free to come and go as she pleases, it strikes me as odd that she’d leave so late without telling anyone. Especially after the lingering tension from last night’s incident.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I say, trying to convince them, and myself. “I’ll try calling her just to make sure everything’s all right.”
But when I call three separate times with no answer, alarms start pinging in my head. I cross the room, checking to see if she left her backpack, but it’s gone too, and no matter how many times I try to count myself off the edge of panic, my mind is going to the worst-case scenario.
Is this about what she’s hiding from me? Have I pushed her too hard or given her too much space? My thoughts won’t stop. Anxiety fuels them, and I’m fearful that she left because she’s ready to break our contract, but more than that, I fear she’s left because of me.
When my fourth call is forwarded to voicemail, I stuff my phone into my pocket and run a hand through my hair.
No more avoiding. No more hesitating. No more denial.
If anything, her leaving has given me a chance to finally confront her.
“Reginald, please let Sam know I’ve got something I need to take care of.” They trail after me to the foyer, where I grab my keys from the lockbox on the wall. I lower my voice so only he can hear me. “And keep this between us.”
